


Just Kiss Me

by Clockwork_Mockingbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, handjobs, make out, yuuri is an anxious pork cutlet bowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork_Mockingbird/pseuds/Clockwork_Mockingbird
Summary: Their first kiss is televised. The next one is just them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been good at writing sexy stuff but I couldn't help myself. I looked up the Russian online so it's probably wrong but they both mean sweetheart or honey.

The door shuts behind them with a soft click that goes off like a gunshot. The entire world is outside that door but in here, in this hotel room they share, they're alone.

Their first kiss had been public, televised even (and a large part of Yuuri is going to be _mortified_ about that later), but whatever happens next is for them alone.

Yuuri swallows, his mouth suddenly bone dry.

Victor's looked at him like this before, not that Yuuri's ever known what it's meant. Eyes directly on him and only him, mouth curved in a half smile. He steps closer to Yuuri, and this at least is familiar, the sight of Victor so close to him, the warm feeling coiling in his gut.

This time, Yuuri's sure of what he wants.

"Victor-"

Being sure of something doesn't make it any easier to vocalize it, and he's not one hundred percent certain of anything other than that Victor has kissed him now. And Yuuri wants him to do it again.

Wants to feel more than half of lips on his, a brief brush of skin on skin, and he definitely wants more than just a sly hint of tongue over too fast for him to even feel it.

"Yuuri," Victor says, and it's nearly a sigh. His voice is low and heady. He sounds like a man who knows exactly what he wants and who'll have no problems taking it.

"I'm proud of you," he says, shedding his coat and suit jacket. His eyes never leave Yuuri's.

The silver medal around his neck feels heavy suddenly.

Victor skims a finger over the etching, and somehow his hand is under the medal now, flat on his chest.

Yuuri's wearing a hoodie, a shirt under that, and somehow he feels like he's already naked.

 _Already_.

"Can..." Yuuri's tongue darts out to wet his lips but it sticks instead. He can barely swallow.

Can he do this? Does he want to?

He does. He wants so badly for the next step to happen, wants to kiss, wants to hold... he _wants_. And it's about time he admitted it to himself.

And to Victor.

But-

His body is sure, and deep in his mind he's sure too, but his brain has already begun screaming at him.

How is he going to _do_ this? Does Victor even want this? One kiss doesn't mean anything. It could mean nothing after all. One kiss in the spur of the moment, with everything that had happened- the silver medal, the jump, it doesn't have to mean anything and he'd been so stupid to just assume-

Victor's hand slides up Yuuri's chest, fingers catching under Yuuri's chin to tilt his head up. He looks Victor square in the eye. Distantly he hears what has to be the gentle  _clink_ of his medal being laid on the table.

"Whatever you want, Yuuri," Victor breathes. "No pressure, no rush. It's alright."

The words slid over Yuuri's too hot skin like a balm. The screaming voice in his head quiets.

"Can... will you just kiss me again?"

Victor lets out a breath, a sigh that's a release of too much held back for too long, and then he's leaning forward and _oh god this is actually happening_.

His lips stops the barest hint from Yuuri's. "Whenever you wish," he murmurs, and their lips brush with the promise.

It's better, sweeter, than last time. No cameras, no shocked and cheering fans, no one but them. Gravity hits Yuuri again, but he locks his knees and fights to stay upright. He doesn't want this to end. This time, when Victor's arms lock around him, Yuuri leans into him, wraps his arms around him as well.

 _This is happening,_ he thinks with the part of his brain not leaping for joy. _Victor's kissing me._

Victor doesn't give just a hint of tongue. He angles his head, far better than Yuuri- or at least much more practiced- at this, and his tongue slides fully into Yuuri's mouth, teasing his.

Someone moans, and Yuuri's backed against the door, Victor pressing against him, and Yuuri realizes through the fog in his brain that the noises are coming from him. He might find it himself to be embarrassed about that later, but right now he can't really bring himself to care.

When those clever lips move to touch Yuuri's neck, he's sure everyone in the world hears the ungodly moan that escapes from him. His teeth click from the force of snapping his mouth shut. He goes rigid in Victor's arms.

"Easy, easy." Victor gathers him up, voice gentle and rumbling in Yuuri's ear. "It's okay."

The embarrassment and uncertainty from early come back tenfold. Yuuri isn't sure if he's going to faint or scream, and settles for burying his face in Victor's chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt in his fists. What is _wrong_ with him? A few kisses and he's losing his damn mind like an unsure virgin.

Though it's not far off. He is an unsure virgin, and Victor is quite clearly not.

Yuuri is in way over his head.

Victor threads his fingers through Yuuri's hair. He chuckles softly when Yuuri burrows deeper.

The heartbeat in Yuuri's ear is loud and fast, a drum banging away with such force it's a wonder that Yuuri isn't bruised when he dares glance up.

Victor... is Victor _nervous_?

He can't be. He isn't. Victor's never nervous. Always sure, always carefree, happy and doing whatever he wants. He left Russia to go to Japan on a whim, ignoring his coach, his fans, his fellow skaters. So he can't be nervous just from kissing Yuuri senseless.

Yet the hand on Yuuri's face is shaking, and his smile is just slightly unsure.

"We can stop."

Yuuri starts, head nearly clipping Victor's when he surges upright.

"No," he says. "I don't want to stop. I just- I'm..." _So stupid._ "...nervous. I've never done... this..."

Oh god just kill him now.

"Yuuri, Любимый. I know, it's alright." Victor kisses Yuuri's forehead, a simple pressure of lips on skin. He stays there for a minute, just breathing. His fingers card through Yuuri's hair, teasing. "Let's slow down a bit then, hm?"

Slow down. Okay. He can do this. They're still kissing, and Victor didn't laugh, and they're not _stopping_. Victor wants to keep going. Yuuri wants to keep going. He doesn't ever want to stop.

Just like a jump on the ice, the same bravery required, same trust before liftoff. Yuuri clears his mind and just does it.

He frames Victor's face with his hands and pulls, just enough to get the taller man to bend, and kisses him hard. Like he's always wanted to. Since he was younger and realized exactly what kissing entailed, it was Victor he's always imagined kissing- but it was the Victor on tv and magazines. Long hair, graceful movements, perfect in every way. A fantasy, nothing more.

The real Victor- his Victor- is real and much, much better. Victor inhales pork cutlet bowls like they're going out of style, falls asleep on the floor curled up with his dog, and is amazed by everything he sees in town. Fascinated by the ninja house, addicted to Instagram, and demanding to follow Yuuri everywhere.

This Victor... this is the one he's been falling for the moment he laid eyes on him.

And this Victor sighs into the kiss. Grabs Yuuri by the hips and pulls them together. Deepens the kiss without a thought.

 _Yes,_ Yuuri thinks, stepping closer. _Yes, yes, yes._

Then he doesn't think anything. He just _feels_.

The pounding of his heart, the slick glide of his tongue against Victor's, the roaring in Yuuri's ears, and oh god those are Victor's hands reaching around and brushing his ass. The fingers still, almost like a question, and Yuuri answers by standing on tiptoe and running his hands down Victor's back.

And tipping his head just slightly to the side to kiss Victor's jaw.

Victor throws his head back and moans, murmuring a mix of English and Russian that Yuuri can barely hear, let alone follow. Yuuri makes his way down Victor's neck and dares to use his teeth just the smallest bit.

"Сладкий, Yuuri-"

He's never heard Victor sound so lost before.

He likes it.

Before his mind can even register it, Yuuri's fingers begin working on the knot in Victor's tie. By the time he's caught up with himself the silk is on the floor and Victor's shirt is hanging open, caught by only three buttons at the bottom.

The heat of a blush slams into Yuuri's face. He's seen Victor in less before- hell he's seen him in nothing before, but this is so much more intimate.

Victor's chest heaves as he gasps for air. "Yuuri." He _purrs_ the word, and that's all the warning Yuuri gets before they're falling. The bed is much softer than the ice, and Victor's yanking at his shirt until the buttons pop off and ping onto the floor.

"Oh god," Yuuri manages. He surges upward, meeting Victor halfway for a kiss, weight on his elbows. Victor's mouth follows the path of the zipper he drags downward, kissing Yuuri's chest through the fabric of his shirt.

Yuuri is one hundred percent sure he's about to combust. He's perfectly fine with that. As long as Victor keeps kissing him, he's fine with whatever happens.

He's out of his hoodie and sprawled on the bed with Victor Nikiforov straddling him. Victor wants him. He can feel the evidence pressing against his thigh, his own arousal painfully clear and digging into Victor's hip.

With a whisper of fabric, he and Victor are both stripped to the waist. Yuuri raises for a kiss, but Victor pushes him down gently. And stares.

Yuuri's blush spreads down to his chest.

"Beautiful," Victor rumbles, and presses a kiss to Yuuri's collar bone. "Oh, Yuuri. So beautiful."

He feels like he should say something here, something amazing and poetic, but he loses the ability to speak at all when Victor lowers himself fully, so they're skin against skin, and mouths along Yuuri's chest. They only thing that comes out of his mouth is a low, guttural sound as he arches off the bed.

Who knew it would feel so good to come apart?

Yuuri tangles one hand with Victor's, the other scraping his nails down Victor's spine.

There are no words here, not now. Only skin and touch and taste. And when finally they are bare, Yuuri breathes deep and lets himself speak without thought.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

Victor chuckles, the sound a little dark, and takes him in hand.

Yuuri loses his goddamn _mind_.

"Look at me," Victor says, an order and a plea all at once. "Look at me, Yuuri."

He can't. He's naked and panting, Victor's hand is wrapped around him, the barest hint of pressure, and every light in the room is blazing. He's not entirely sure this is happening. This is an intense, amazing dream.

There's no way he's naked in bed with Victor Nikiforov, is he? Oh god, oh god-

"Yuuri."

And everything stops.

Yuuri's eyes snap to Victor's, brown against blue. The tension in him melts away, as much as it can with someone touching him, stroking him. The touches are slightly hesitant now, light and careful. There's a question in Victor's eyes.

He'd stop right now at a word from Yuuri. No question. That knowledge banishes the last of the anxiety and lets him reach for Victor.

"There you are," the older man breathes. He touches Yuuri's face. Kisses him deeply. "Stay with me now."

The touches linger, but still Victor hesitates.

"Do you want to stop?"

And Yuuri smiles.

"No," he says, never more sure of anything in his life. "Just kiss me."

Victor's smile is wide and pure, the light in his eyes brighter than the sun. He obliges with a wicked swirl of his tongue and a soft hum. His hand fists around Yuuri's arousal, pumping steadily. Yuuri grips the sheets and prays the moment never ends.

He separates from Victor with a wet pop, throwing his head back. He arches high off the bed. It's never felt like this, so deep and primal. He gasps and tries to form words, tries to even picture them in his mind but there's nothing. There's only Victor, only him, only the feel of Victor's skin on his.

"Vic-"

He spills over Victor's hand, pulling the sheets off the bed with fisted hands. Everything goes white, so bright, so fast, and he hears nothing but the dull roar in his ears, the pounding of his heart beating out of his chest.

God, _god_ he's never felt anything like this, not even close. And Victor, Victor is murmuring to him, soft Russian against his skin. His tongue darts out to dip into his navel before traveling up to his lips.

Yuuri feels like a limp dish rag.

Victor chuckles, wiping his hand. Crap, did he say that out loud?

"I've never seen anything more beautiful."

His mouth's gone dry again, but Yuuri gathers enough spit to speak. He reaches, somewhat hesitantly, between Victor's legs.

"Can I...?"

Victor smiles down at him. "Yes," he says. He stretches onto his side, fully against the bed. "Here, let's..."

Yuuri's already moving, raising up on shaky knees to tower over Victor. It strikes him as odd. He's never taller than Victor, even when he's wearing skates, and here he is looking down at him. But he wants to see everything. And he wants to be on top.

Did he really just think that?

Is he really about to do this?

"Yuuri, just kiss me."

He does. He lets himself sink into the kiss. Remembering how Victor did it, he nips slightly at Victor's bottom lip and darts his tongue out to soothe it. Did he do it right? Fingers tangle together again, and Victor moans, and Yuuri's got him in hand and just doesn't let himself think about it.

 _Look at me_.

"Victor." Is that his voice? That deep, low voice? "Look at me."

Victor spills moments later, mouth open, eyes on Yuuri's. He shudders, then slings an arm over his eyes.

"Oh god," Victor laughs. "The things you do to me."

Yuuri falls onto the bed beside him, pleasantly warm and tired. Fatigue coats every inch of him, but he manages to return the sloppy kiss Victor presses against his mouth.

"Me? You started it."

Victor hums and rubs his nose against Yuuri's.

"About your performance-"

Victor's suddenly silenced by a pillow to the face. Laughing, he grabs Yuuri and pulls him close, angling it so their heads lay against each other. His grin is infectious, and Yuuri feels it mirrored on his own lips.

"On the ice, on the _ice!_ " Victor strokes his back, chuckling. "Believe me the performance that just happened was amazing."

Yuuri's too tired to come up with a response, so he presses his lips against Victor's chest instead.

"Sleep, my Yuuri." Victor's eyes are already closing. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

They do. But not until after their new tradition of showering together.


End file.
